The muckle touer’s inlaid wi mosaic
An Princess Saxsestra Fount Sans Pirlicue
In her chaumer at the tap
Hauds a caunle in her niv.

She’s buskit black on blae on white,
Her hair black, reid an blue,
Threefauld are her irises,
An sílence is her croun.

Keekin ootower her windae,
She casts a ee athort the carse;
She kensna whan the houlet skriechs,
But she sees the starnies rowe.
Her warld nae gowd or muizic hauds,
A space aa siller an sílence hers...

Whaur Lang Sandy douks for puddaes in the burn,
An houlets glides like gaists amang the trees
While five muins ryces in the icy lift,
A dooble broch surroondin thon pale ee.